


Tell Me If I Do

by MusicallyMine21



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks in Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2519207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicallyMine21/pseuds/MusicallyMine21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What the hell did I get myself into?"</p><p>It's finals week, and they are especially taking a toll on Jean Kirstien, an Art History major who meets Marco Bott four days before with a coffee mixed with Monster and a hell of a lot of textbooks. With the stress of finals and possible feelings for this stranger, Jean should keep his friends close... and his sanity closer. </p><p>In a tale of late nights, ramen, coffee, reckless study habits, snowballs, friends, parents, confusion, tears, love, crazy little sisters, angry french, 3:00 am pizza, and (hopefully) a happy ending, this is Jean's story, and Marco's story, and yours, if you let it be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me If I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is a dork, Marco is adorable.
> 
> Fucking Nerds.

What the hell did I get myself into? 

A tangled, fucked up portion of my life, that on a given day, I would change everything. But most, I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing. If I hadn’t had those crazy college years, I never would have met the person I would spend my life with, my soulmate. I could go all “How I Met Your Mother” on this, but I’ll just tell it properly, like it happened. The ugly, beautiful truth. Here we go...

“Remember, Finals are in a four days, so be studying! Finals make or break your advancement to next semesters courses, you do not want to fail. Alright, pick up your trash, and get the hell out of my classroom.” Professor Levi Ackerman barked at the class, and we shuffled out. Finals week fucking sucked, and I was exhausted. But I would not give up and half-ass it like Connie. No, I, Jean Kirstien, was not a quitter. So I went back to my dorm with a coffee, skyped my little sister Hitch for a while, and then, packed up my laptop and class notes and hauled my sorry ass over to the library. Petra, the nice library assistant, directed me to the art history section and left me to study with direction to the tables and a sympathetic smile. 

“Thanks, Petra.” I mumbled as a goodbye and started to fill my arms with thick, heavy bound books with gold lettering embossed on the front. The kind with thick, creamy paper and slightly faded illustrations, the smell of book filling my nose as I piled one after the other into my arms. I glanced at the clock mounted on the wall, 2 :34 AM. Great. Most people were at the library, so I couldn’t really find an empty table. I spotted a table with a guy about my age at it, so I headed over to him. He looked nice enough, brunette, writing something down in a notebook, textbooks neatly arranged around him. I cleared my throat, and he looked up, his big brown eyes sleep stained.

“Is this seat taken?” I said, gesturing to the empty chair opposite his. He perked up and shook his head, pulling his books toward him, giving me space. 

“Go ahead.” He murmured, fatigue weighing down his voice. I dropped my books on the table with a sigh, and pulled my bag off of my shoulder. I set up my laptop, took out my notebook, and sat down. I felt a wave of tiredness wash over me, and my eyelids droop. I shook my head as to expel the feeling and flipped open the book “Van Gogh, A Life.” After a chapter or two, though I love Van Gogh, the pages blurred and words swam together and I didn’t know what I was reading anymore! With an annoyed groan, I pushed the book away in frustration and put my head in my hands. 

“I’m getting some coffee, you want one?” I asked the anonymous guy, who was practically falling asleep on his color coded notes. He nodded gratefully, and I nodded back and stood, and walked to the Starbucks across the courtyard. Ymir was working, and I waved in acknowledgement, and walked up to her at the register. 

“Two large coffees, you know how I like mine, and two sugars for the other, no cream.” I said. She rang it up, giving me a look. I handed her the money and she smirked.

“Meet someone?” She asked casually. I shrugged, and shoved my hands in my pockets. 

“Just some guy I met at the library, I sat down with him. He was about to doze off, and I was too, so I offered to get some coffee. That’s it, Ymir. How’s Christa?” I said, and she smiled. 

“Historia is great, studying for finals, like everyone. She’s so cute, falling asleep at her desk. I carry her to bed most of the time. It’s taking a toll on her, though. I’ll be glad when this is over.” I laughed in agreement, grabbing a Monster from the case, handing her the money for it.

“That makes two of us.” I responded. She handed me the warm cups of coffee with a very Ymir smirk. 

“Good luck, Kirstien.” She called as I walked out of the store. I held up my coffee in goodbye, and stepped out into the cold winter night. I winced as the cold air hit my face, and I walked quickly back across to the library, relaxing as the heating enveloped me. When I got back over to the table I saw the nameless guy pawing through a textbook, lips moving silently with the words. I set the coffee on the table and slid it over to him. He smiled and took a long sip. He sighed and breathed a “Thank you” to me, quietly. I smiled and took a sip of my own coffee. I drank about ¼ of it, and then took the Monster out of my bag. I locked eyes with the older boy, a ghostly manic grin on my face. I opened the monster with a carbonated hiss and took the lid off of my coffee.

“I’m going to die.” I told him, pouring the monster in my coffee, and downing the whole thing. He watched, his mouth open in disbelief. I slammed the empty cup on the table and sighed, closing my eyes and laughing, a tired regretful laugh. 

“Dude, that was hardcore.” He remarked, returning my tired laugh, but with a note of disbelief playing lightly in his. “What the hell are you studying?” 

“I’m majoring in Art History, so AP Modern Art and History of Western Art I. It’s brutal, but I enjoy it. You?” I answered, and he smiled, as if that made perfect sense to him, the nameless boy with the two tone hair and reckless study habits studied art history. He then showed me his textbook. “Statistics for Engineers and Scientists” it read. I felt bad for him, math was not my strong point, especially stats.

“I’m studying Industrial Engineering and Design.” He replied, and I gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Stats man, they suck.” I said, and he nodded in agreement. He then took a sip of his coffee, and looked at me, quizzically. 

“Who are you?” He asked, and I flashed an involuntary smile. I loved his voice, I mean, it was really nice sounding. I wanted to hear him talk forever.

“I’m Jean, Jean Kirstien. And… you are?” I wanted to know his name, bad. He was so, unexplainable, like a sunrise on water, you can try and try for hours, and you could never give enough detail to explain him, never get it exactly right. Maybe his name would enlighten me on some kind of secret to explaining the impossible. 

“Marco. I’m Marco. So, Jean, finals seem to be taking quite a toll on you, huh?” I gave him a glare.

“No kidding. You seem better off than me, though. Much more organised. How the fuck man?” 

“It’s not that hard, just, ugh. I’m pretty much done for the night, do you want me to help you?” He offered, and I looked at him incredulously. 

“Dude, no! Go home, you’re half dead anyway.” I insisted, but he stayed, taking my notebook and flipping through it. He didn't look fazed at all. He flicked through the pages, scanning them. He stopped on a page, and blocked it from my view, his eyes flickering up to mine, as if to ask ‘are you ready?’ I nodded, he took a deep breath.

“Andy Warhol. Tell me about him.” He prompted.

“Warhol, okay. He was the inventor of the art style pop art, and that became popular in 1960’s. He died in 1987. His most famous piece is Campbell's Soup cans or Marilyn Monroe.” I recited.

“The modern art time period is…”

“Roughly 1850’s to the… 1970’s?” I didn’t really know, ha. Fuck, I was going to fail.

“Almost. The 1860’s. You’re doing good. Okay…”

That’s about how it went from there, and I did pretty well, but I did need to study. I was grateful finals were four days away. I noticed there was sun streaming through the windows. Marco was bookmarking various websites to help me study on my laptop, his face flickering in the different colors as he switched tabs. I stared dumbfounded out the window. My hands were still shaking from the excessive amount of caffeine I had had. 

“Alright, that should be enough. I’m going to head out, and try to get some sleep before my morning classes.” He said, closing the computer with a click. He gave me a warm smile, and started to pack up his things. He left with a wave, so I followed suit, packed up my things, walked out with a goodbye to Eld, who was now at the desk. I situated my earbuds in my ears and shuffled my music, just needed something to keep me awake. Sheila Take A Bow by The Smiths started playing, and my steps automatically matched the beat of the song as I started my walk halfway across the huge campus. 

Mitingu University was huge, and since it was, it specialised in everything, arts, math, music, drama, culinary, design. If you wanted a good college degree, you went to Mitingu. They had different blocks, the Art and Design block, the Music and Drama block, the Math and Science block, the Culinary and Baking block, the Computer and engineering block, and the Writing and Literature block. The school was divided like that, six different little sections, with a huge recreational area in the middle, a garden, the food court, the library, and the courtyard, where most people ate lunch in the spring and summer.The sports arenas and gym was on the northeast corner of campus. The dorms were in their respective blocks, so naturally mine was in the Art and Design block. I shared a dorm with a guy named Connie Springer, who was cool, but a little annoying. I hummed the song as it played, 

Sheila take a, Sheila take a bow  
Boot the grime of this world in the crotch, dear  
And don't go home tonight

I murmured, and trotted up the stairs, opened the door to find Connie and Sasha sprawled on the floor asleep among various textbooks. And yet they say they're “just friends.” Ha, I know better. Everyone does, really. I plopped down onto my bed and almost immediately fell asleep.

“WAKE UP HORSEFACE!” Connie bellowed in my ear, at what seemed was just a second after I went to sleep. I threw a pillow at him, and, as usual, missed. He laughed, so I pulled myself out of bed and glanced at the clock. 11:02. 

“Fuck, Connie, I have class in 15 minutes!” I screeched at him, and raced to pack my stuff up frantically. I have greek, so I had to get all the way across campus. I threw on a new shirt and my coat, slipping my boots on and grabbing my bag. Ruefully, I stole Connie’s coffee he had in his hand. Serves him right for waking me up this late. 

I got to class right before Professor Pixis and slid into my seat. Sighing in relief, I pulled out my greek notes and my favorite pen. (Not only girls have favorite pens, you know!) He picked up where we left off on the lecture of early grecian culture, and I jotted down notes, but halfway through, got a little bored. I looked around the enormous lecture hall, my eyes darting from student to student. I saw Hitch, and Annie, but they were pretty focused on the lesson. I sighed and turned my attention back to the lesson.

I couldn’t stop thinking of Marco though. He was so, unexplainable, still, and it pissed me off. I wanted to find some way to describe him, even to myself, but words failed. He was a cool guy. I know, I know, you don’t talk this way about people you are sorta friends with, but that was just how Marco was. I didn’t like him, not in that way, but I did want to get to know him. 

I got through my morning classes, and wandered over to the little cafe I liked in the courtyard. I grabbed coffee and a croissant, walked over to a bench and pulled out my sketchbook. Finding no inspiration, I headed over to the music department. They have an area filled with instruments and people just sit down and play. I can play piano, sort of. I sing better. I walked over to the baby grand piano in the back corner of the room and sat down. I traced my fingers over the keys before plinking a few random notes. I then moved on to random chords, then random notes and random chords, until it sounded familiar, a song I liked. Atlas, by Coldplay. I began to hum the words, and plink away at the keys, relishing every chord and sound, and I became so concentrated, I didn't notice him until I had finished, my hands resting lightly on the keyboard.

“Oh, hello Marco.” I said and suddenly felt embarrassed, I barely played piano around my friends much less almost perfect strangers.

“You’re really good.” He said, and I blushed. I mean, I didn’t blush. Jean Kirstien does not blush. 

“Thanks. I really like music, all kinds. How ‘bout you? Do you listen to music?” I replied and he nodded.

“Yeah, pretty much everything. I don’t like country though.” He admitted. We talked for a while, and ended up walking out together. 

“You have to read the Court of Owls series of Batman, really. It was so good! It starts out with…” Marco was telling me all about a comic he read, but trying not to spoil it for me. He was really cute when he talked like that, all excited. He used his hands a lot, big gestures to paint the grandeur of it all. It was adorable, in a best friend kind of way. Was it? The little voice in my head was nagging me, taunting me, “maybe you like Marco, Jean. I mean, what’s not to like? He’s nice and adorable, his ass is fantastic (shut up brain friends don’t look at other friends asses) and he’s not unattractive. Are you sure you’re straight?” I pushed the thoughts out of my head. I was just confused, that’s all. Just, confused.

“Jean, are you listening to me?” Marco asked, pulling me out of my dazed reverie. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m listening.” I responded, but too quickly, because Marco just rolled his eyes and turned the conversation to me.

“So, how were your classes?” He asked, and I pulled him over to the Starbucks. I ordered mine, he ordered his, and I introduced him to Ymir, who was working crazy shifts. 

“Ymir, this is Marco, the guy from the library? Marco, this is Ymir, my friend from high school.” They said hello, and Marco told me he’d wait for our drinks, walking toward the other side of the store. Ymir raised her eyebrows at me, then smirked.

“You like him, don’t you?” She mused, eyeing him.

“No I don’t!”

‘yes you do’

“Shut up brain.” I argued with myself, Ymir was looking at me like I should be in a mental hospital, so I just glowered at her, while she chuckled to herself. We got our drinks and we were turning to go, when Ymir called after us.

“Freckles! Stay for a sec. Horseface, you can go.” I shot her a wilting glare, and she put her fingers to her lips and shook her head, meaning she wouldn't tell. I held her gaze a moment longer before walking out the door. 

I walked fast, not caring that I didn’t have a coat, or gloves, I was mad, at myself mostly. I stalked into my dorm and slammed the door, breathing heavily, lungs burning from the cold. I let out a cry of helplessness and rage, threw my bag across the room, and sunk to the floor.

“Get your shit together, Kirstien” I whispered to myself, and I sat there, mulling through my thoughts and staring at the ceiling, hyper aware of the silence. After a minute I picked myself up and shuffled over to my computer, booting it up and doing the only thing I ever do when I’m confused.

Talk to my sister.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome, and feel free to share it with people if you like it, and I hope you do! 
> 
> My tumblr is: textbook-lesbian.tumblr.com/
> 
> My twitter: twitter.com/HelloItsKaylaJ
> 
> And of course, this is my Ao3. 
> 
> If anyone has a Wattpad, mine is MusicallyMine21
> 
> Happy Reading!


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